


Grey

by Philomytha



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Alys wore grey in mourning for Padma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lanna Michaels's prompt 'Alys, mourning clothes' at fic_promptly

At first, Alys wore grey in mourning for Padma. She missed him when she walked into a room on no man's arm and when she sat with the dowagers and sombre widows whilst others danced, when Ivan said his first word and took his first steps, and when the nightmares hunted her sleep and she woke alone to find they were real.

Towards the end of the first year, she began to realise that Cordelia was not going to step into the power vacuum Kareen had left, possibly didn't understand that there was was a power vacuum and that she was supposed to fill it. And when Alys saw that the other alternative was the Dowager Countess Vorhalas, she stepped forward, and discovered that her grey silks and pearls gave her words more weight than colours and bright jewels ever had.

When Ivan turned five, when her grief was wearing thin and familiar, she began to consider putting on colours again, but then she recalled how even her most persistent suitors had to stay at arm's length whilst she wore grey. And a second husband would take her away from this new world of politics and intrigue, would want her to consider his interests and not the interests of the Regent and of Barrayar. And when Count Vorpatril offered to foster Ivan, telling her how a boy needed men to guide him, she could dab at her eyes with her black-edged handkerchief and speak of what poor Padma would have wanted, and even Count Vorpatril had to back away.

And then it was an established fact of Vorbarr Sultana society: Lady Alys Vorpatril wore grey. To change this would only invite comment, and whilst Alys was growing in confidence as the leader of society, she didn't feel she could do as she chose yet. Besides, grey did suit her. Her preferred shade held a hint of violet, just enough to bring out the velvety black of her hair, a setting for her face and her pearls. It made her look serious, and older, and still lovely. Ivan told her she was the most beautiful mama in the galaxy, and at that time, she hadn't wanted other compliments.

When Ivan was ten she wore grey as a warning to herself, because somewhere between one day, one crisis, one party and the next, Simon had turned from an annoyingly paranoid spy she couldn't avoid into a friend, and she could feel a draw for more, and it was impossible and absurd. Her grey dress stood as a shield, protection against smiling at him too much, against talking for longer once the work was over, against everything that could not be.

When Ivan was thirteen she found strands of grey in her hair. Her hairdresser offered to deal with them for her with dyes and galactic treatments, but Alys shook her head.

"Leave them be," she said. "I'm going to need them."

She would not leave off her grey, but it could change as she had changed. At the Winterfair Ball, her gown was crimson.


End file.
